Divine Footsteps
by kurgaya
Summary: 50 prompts - Ichigo/Toshiro. Rating ranges from K to T. Warnings for each prompt inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **These are uploaded as I write them. Some are definitely better than others.

* * *

**Prompt #027 Shocked**

**Hypnosis**

"That was... highly inappropriate, Kurosaki."

* * *

He knew he was shamelessly staring, but he couldn't help himself. There was just something so mesmerising about the way Toshiro spoke, how his words lifted in delight and his eyes shone with passion, that Ichigo couldn't tear himself away from. They'd been friends for a while now, content in each other's company, but Ichigo hadn't really _looked_ at Toshiro until an hour ago, when the taicho had agreed to help him with his kido. Their meeting had been completely innocent; not entirely professional but that came with their friendship, but it had caused a spark inside of him. Toshiro had slipped into the training grounds with such hesitance that suggested he either expected Ichigo to be late, or ditch and not turn up at all, and from across the gravel Ichigo had felt himself smile; grin like a child at Christmas.

He hadn't been able to explain it for twenty minutes or so, and Toshiro hadn't questioned the expression on his face. It had taken a snapped reprimand from the shorter man (his lousy attempt at kido had been off-kilter and had almost blown a hole in the tenth division roof) for everything to click in Ichigo's brain; the strained bubble pulsing in his chest had burst and the vapour had turned the cogs, pressed the buttons, and slid all of the puzzle pieces tightly together.

He started staring without realising, overwhelmed with emotion and the burning, giddy desire to lean over and just kiss Toshiro because - _God_, he wanted to, he wanted to so badly, and he couldn't see how he'd never noticed before. Toshiro was unbelievable and clever and playful and sarcastic, but charitable and understanding, and they were great friends because they were so alike but Ichigo wanted more; wanted to know what _more_ felt like. The urge to reach over and brush their hands together, pull the nimble man towards him into a hug, kiss him, hold him, just do so many things - he couldn't, he couldn't -

"Try again."

Toshiro's voice drifted into his mind, effortlessly like a cloud sailing the wind up in the sky - it belonged there in his head like the cloud in the sky, for when it wasn't it left a vast hollow space of worthlessness, a canvas of blue with no variation, no patterns or design. Toshiro was watching him expectantly, mouth pressed together in a firm, patient line, and Ichigo dived forward to crash their lips together.

"Kurosaki!" cried the taicho, recoiling. Wide, shocked, perturbed eyes reflected Ichigo's optimistic ones, and they both started to splutter flustered nonsense at the same time:

" - what are you - ?"

" - I'm sorry, I'm sorry - "

" - you can't just - "

Ichigo snapped his mouth shut, jaw aching in protest as his brain cried out in dismay at the words. He waved his hands frantically in surrender, taking a half step back to tread on his heart, squashing it's howling into the ground. "I'm really really sorry, I - "

"That was... _highly inappropriate_, Kurosaki," Toshiro said, his voice shaking at the end. He tugged at his uniform and blinked a dozen times, his features alternating between a confused grimace and an awkward smile.

"I know, I know - God I'm sorry - I'd just wanted to do that since you walked in - I'm so sorry, I should go - God..."

Blowing himself up with a kido sounded like a good option right about now. He felt _terrible_ - Toshiro was staring at him as if he was some deranged lunatic, shaking his head and chewing on his bottom lip. He mirrored the expression, pulling his hands towards his chest to protect himself from the vile truth that he'd just strapped a piece of meat to their friendship and thrown it to the dogs.

"Forgive me, please, I just - "

If he hadn't been watching Toshiro's face very carefully for any signs of disgust or horror, he would have missed the small sigh and the slumping of his shoulders. He did notice though - _this is it_, said his brain with sorrow, _you better run now because this is it_.

"Perhaps..." started the taicho, muttering at a decibel only a mouse would hear. "Dinner would be more appropriate?"

"Pardon?" Ichigo blurted, wincing at the glare he received. "I - I mean - "

"Yes?" Toshiro urged, cheeks lighting up. "I assume that's what you wanted anyway - if you just wanted a - a _fling_ then I'm really not the person - "

Was that his heart soaring in the clouds or was his excitement blurring his vision?

"No! I mean yes! Yes!" He frowned, catching himself at Toshiro's dazed expression. "No wait - no. I don't want a fling. Dinner would be lovely, yeah. Yeah."

He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing in sheer relief. Toshiro sighed again and rolled his eyes, but this time he was smiling with a sweet fondness in his eyes and _Hell yes_ Ichigo could live with that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **None.

* * *

**Prompt #035 Scared**

**The Accidental Dominant**

Even after getting married, Ichigo should have realized there were still things he didn't know about Toshiro.

* * *

Ichigo prided himself in being able to read any emotion that frowned its way onto his lover's face. Toshiro was an open book to him, though he only felt he could say this _after_ they had gotten married because, despite open, he was still a book on quantum physics which Ichigo had no hope of understanding before tying the knot, and he, in turn, was as easy to read as a child's picture book.

(He _did _tend to wear his heart on his sleeve a lot. One simple touch from Toshiro's cool hand against his clammy own was enough for the short taicho to know _exactly_ what his other half was thinking)

The taicho meeting had been the same as ever under Yamamoto's rule: long, dull, and repetitive enough that Ichigo could recite the whole of the opening speech perfectly in time with the old man clutching his wooden staff before them. Still though, the fifth division taicho usually took this time to observe the other people around him, all wearing expressions of equal boredom and the desire to be _anywhere but here_. And it was during that time, as he discretely stared at the fluffy white mop of hair further down the room, that he realized the Captain-Commander was _not_ in the best of moods, and the 'thwunk' of his staff hitting the floor was a clear enough message for the youngest of the taicho to _stop ogling at his husband and pay attention_.

He smiled sheepishly, face lighting up, and turned away to mouth an apology at the man glaring at him, fingers drumming on his staff expectantly. Though his action wasn't fast enough, it seemed, to miss the wince that passed other Toshiro's features, swift and uncomfortable. Ichigo frowned in concern, not caring if his dark expression interrupted Yamamoto's speech for a second time, and made a mental note to ask his husband what was wrong when they were finally released from the clutches of an old man with too much to say.

* * *

That time didn't come soon enough for Ichigo, half asleep on his feet when the meeting had finally come to a close. Yamamoto lifting himself to his unsteady feet and hobbling away (with as much grace as he could have, living in his thousands) was the reminder he needed, however, that he needed to talk with Toshiro. Luckily for him the other taicho was waiting outside of the first division walls with his arms crossed, a standard pose for the routine man.

Ichigo approached with a smile, gave him a quick hug, and then cut to the chase.

"What was that about in the meeting, huh?"

Toshiro scowled, halting in the direction that he had been taking them. Neither of them were fools, and if the way Toshiro sighed and held out his hand for his husband to take was any indication, he knew exactly what the topic of conversation had come to be. Ichigo was glad, because he didn't really want to talk any more than necessary about the way his petite lover had grown more and more uneasy as the Captain-Commander's temper wore more and more thin throughout the meeting.

"I'm surprised it's taken you all these years to notice," Toshiro said in a way that tried to stall the inevitable.

"Notice what?" Ichigo asked, knowing there was something _more_ to Toshiro's behaviour, but not really understanding what that 'more' actually was. He didn't have enough information to make a solid conclusion, and if spending time with the head of the intelligence division for years had taught him something, it was that letting your mouth run faster than your brain was _not_ a good idea.

Gripping Ichigo's hand tightly as they made their way through the streets, Toshiro began, "The Captain-Commander - "

And those three words were all Ichigo needed to put everything together. The revelation surprised him in more ways than one; he thought he had known all that there was to know about his other half, but obviously not. Toshiro _was _a nut that just wouldn't crack, after all. He ran his thumb over the back of Toshiro's hand in reassurance; he didn't feel angry that the shadow existed, just a little concerned. "He scares you, doesn't he?" he whispered softly, not wanting this valuable piece of information to be wide-spread.

_This_ shadow shouldn't really exist at all, to be honest.

A smile appeared on his husband's face for half a second, but it wasn't really a smile. It was more like a 'you've-got-me' grimace that formed it's way onto Toshiro's pale complexion the wrong way up, disappearing after a blink to correct itself.

"Why?" he asked carefully, probing for answers when they managed to go all the way to the fifth division in silence. He received a look that plainly said 'Why not?' for that question, but as they made their gentle way to the office in the middle of the building, Ichigo knew that there was more of a reason than that.

'Why not' was not a good enough reason for Toshiro to be scared of something like his superior officer.

Running this thought through his head a view times, Ichigo served them tea.

* * *

"What happens when you put two alpha male wolves into a room together?"

Three cups and a rather wide array of broken sentence starters later, Toshiro seemed to have finally settled on the best way of approaching the topic. Ichigo had let him think it over for a while (long enough to have to refill the kettle at any rate) and had turned his attention to his paperwork. He was sat on the sofa opposite Toshiro though, as being at his desk would have meant they wouldn't have been able to see each other, and Ichigo wanted to know exactly what his husband's face portrayed as he talked.

"A fight for dominance?" he asked, putting down his brush and setting the piece of paperwork to the side to dry. The rest of the stack was leaning against his thigh, and it tipped dangerously when he shifted his weight and crossed his legs, but he caught it before it toppled and moved it onto the floor. When he sat back up, Toshiro was watching him, clutching his empty cup of tea in his hands.

"So what do you think happens when you put two male dragons into the same room?"

"Oh," said the ginger unhelpfully. Toshiro rolled his eyes in amusement but started chewing his bottom lip, giving Ichigo time to ask another question: "Yamamoto is the dominant male?" He quickly wished he hadn't said that though; the words sounded strange on his tongue and made him feel sick - he couldn't believe he was talking about the Captain-Commander and his husband as if they were _pack wolves_.

"Not the Captain-Commander," Toshiro said respectively, sighing. "_Ryujin Jakka_."

It took a second for Ichigo's brain to work out who that was. "Wait - his zanpakuto? What's that got to do with you?"

The response came with a tut. "Ryujin Jakka and Hyorinmaru are both very prideful zanpakutos, Ichigo. Yet when they first met - or when the Captain-Commander and I first met, I suppose - they wouldn't settle for there being two 'alpha' males."

Ichigo could see where this was going. "But surely all male zanpakutos would consider themselves 'alphas'?"

"No Ichigo," Toshiro stressed, using a tone that Ichigo only ever heard when someone was missing what was clearing in front of them. "How many other zanpakutos do you know are _dragons_? Ryujin Jakka and Hyorinmaru couldn't care less about any of the other taicho's zanpakutos."

Oh. That made sense.

"So you're scared of Yamamoto because...?" He trailed off, raising his eyebrows. Toshiro sighed yet again and put down his cup, averting his eyes to stare at the floor. Deciding that, no, he wouldn't have that, Ichigo got up (remembering not to trip over the paperwork on the carpet) and flung himself down onto the other sofa, wrapping an arm around the other's waist. Toshiro leaned back into him, and the pair comfortably settled in their (as Ichigo had dubbed it) 'it's-okay-to-talk' position, curled up together on the sofa.

"Hyorinmaru is the submissive of the two," explained the older taicho, as if Ichigo hadn't worked that out already. "He doesn't_ like _being below Ryujin Jakka, and his unease - well..."

"It scares you," finished Ichigo, finally understanding. "_Oh Toshiro_, does Yamamoto know this? Isn't there anything you can do about it?"

"I would be surprised if he doesn't," said the other, shaking his head. "But I can't do anything about it - Hyorinmaru is submissive and - "

So are you, Ichigo thought, hugging his lover close and resting his chin in the snowy hair tickling his neck. _Which is stupid_, he added as an afterthought. _Yamamoto's obviously never seen you when you're horny._

His brain went dead for a second. Toshiro wiggled into a better position between his legs, huffing at the restricting cocoon he found himself trapped in.

_Thank god for that._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes: **Not keen on this one (haha).

* * *

**Prompt #002 Family**

**Treading Carefully**

A lot of things 'run in the family'. Ichigo wishes this wasn't one of them.

* * *

The first time Toshiro became aware of Ichigo's... 'problem'... they had been in the tenth division office. Nothing particularly unusual was happening that day, like most days since the end of the Winter War, so Ichigo had been glad to find time to spend with his boyfriend - even if that time was in said boyfriend's office. Being a taicho himself, however, meant that Ichigo had his own duties, and as he couldn't exactly escape his paperwork (no matter how much he wanted to) _his fukutaicho had advised him to take it with him to the tenth division and do it there_.

Wondering why he hadn't thought of this himself, Ichigo had collected the pile, an ink-pot and a couple of brushes, and carefully made his way across Seireitei. There had been no doubt that Toshiro knew he was coming, so he hadn't been surprised to find a cup of tea ready for him and a blanket pulled from one of the cupboards in case he got cold.

After two hours of chatting, working, and generally enjoying each other's company, came the time that Toshiro discovered something about his boyfriend that he hadn't known before. It was nothing spectacular, or dark and in need of a small closet to be locked in; in fact, the head of the intelligence division wasn't quite sure what to make of it at first, adding to the other taicho's embarrassment.

"Damn it," grumbled Ichigo from across the room, and his painful tone was enough to make Toshiro pause in his (Matsumoto's) work and look up to see what the problem was.

Finding Ichigo half bent-down, gripping the sofa arm and looking absolutely miserable with himself wasn't what he was expecting to see, but his concern only grew when Ichigo didn't move from his awkward position in the middle of the office. The man still had one of his brushes clasped tightly in his hand, and his eyebrows were dipped in irritated, his teeth clenched.

"Ichigo?" he asked softly, rising from his desk. "Are you in pain?"

The ginger huffed as his partner walked over and placed a cool hand on his shoulder, managing a smile. "Yeah I'm fine," he said, though still hunched over he wasn't looking very convincing. "Pins and needles."

With those words Toshiro's hand was withdrawn, and it joined it's other as the taicho crossed his arms over his chest, all traces of worry gone. "Walk them off for crying out loud," he snapped, rolling his eyes.

"I can't," Ichigo stressed, his expression almost fooling Toshiro for a moment. But no, it didn't work, and the white haired taicho grabbed one of Ichigo's arms and pulled him forwards, demanding that he walk and 'stop being ridiculous', only to have his lover stumble spectacularly, hiss a cry through his teeth, and crash to his knees with a groan.

"I told you!" barked the man on the floor with no real anger behind his words, the other occupant of the room suddenly very still in shock. "I _can't_. They're not just pins and needles - ergh - "

He winced, his whole body tensing. Toshiro was on the floor beside him in seconds, one of his hands back on Ichigo's shoulders and the other reaching up to cup his partner's face. "Ichigo...?" he asked uncertainly. There was something he was missing, he was sure; pins and needles are annoying, but they don't usually cause people pain -

"They'll pass in a minute," Ichigo assured, trying another smile. "Just give me a minute would ya?"

Frowning, Toshiro replied quietly, as if not wanting to admit it, "I don't understand."

Ichigo was still for a few moments more, gripping the floor and the brush with equal intensity, but then relief flooded onto his face, slowly, like a painkiller taking effect, and eventually he rolled into a more comfortable position. Suddenly looking right as rain, Ichigo slumped against the sofa and let out a heavy sigh.

"Runs in the family," he began to explain, Toshiro shuffling along the floor to sit opposite him. "Dunno why it happens, but sometimes I get pins and needles that are really bad - like, even trying to move my legs feels horrible. There's nothing I can do but wait for them to pass unfortunately, walking doesn't actually help most of the time."

Surprise was not an emotion that passed over Toshiro's face often, but there it was, and Ichigo grinned when he noticed. "My knees collapsed once," he went on, thinking back to all the times this 'problem' had occurred. "I just - went over. Luckily my bed was behind me, or I would have hit my head against my desk or something."

He laughed, not at all looking as unhappy and pained as he had but a few minutes ago.

"Can't you go to a doctor?" Toshiro asked, his voice full of concern. He had never imagined that the numb feeling he occasionally got from sleeping on his arm could be so much worse, and he couldn't understand how Ichigo wasn't fazed by the abnormality of it all.

"Dad's a doctor, remember? But they're not really a life-changing problem or anything, so I've never really thought much of it. Yeah, I hate it when I get them, but they pass in a couple of minutes. Usually. No harm done."

Toshiro didn't look very convinced, but he let the matter drop. Ichigo did look perfectly fine now, as if he hadn't just been stuck in the tenth division office and then pulled over by his boyfriend - this thought made Toshiro blush in shame, and he reached out to intertwine his fingers with Ichigo's nearest hand.

"I apologise," he mumbled, missing the expression of confusion he got in reply. "I shouldn't have forced you when you clearly couldn't move."

He heard a sigh, heard Ichigo lean closer, and then felt a pair of lips brushing against his forehead.

"Eh, I don't mind. Most people just tease me about it - I don't think they understand really."

"Neither do I," admitted Toshiro, frowning, but decided it was just going to have to be one of those things he got used to. "Just as long as it doesn't hinder you from doing things - "

"What?" Ichigo interrupted with a grin. "Like pinning you to the bed and snogging you senseless? Cause, you know, I can do that even with pins and needles - though you might be stuck under me for a while."

Never before had somebody looked so tempted to hit him. And living in the Kurosaki household, that was saying something really.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes: **Headcanon :P

* * *

**Prompt #018 Song**

**Divine**

Advancement leads to radios, and radios lead to - well. Dancing.

* * *

Unlike the human world, Soul Society was incredibly slow to develop. Not physically, for the city walls were forever being moved as Seireitei expanded it's borders, but technologically. When Japan had been turning through it's Feudal Era, so was the afterlife, except the clock had stopped for Soul Society whereas the human world had thrived with cars, radios, and computers.

Soul Society had kept up with the human world in some areas though. The fourth division offered the best care it could invent, and if they hadn't invented it then the humans had - they still used it, though sometimes adaptations were needed. The twelfth division also kept on top of the advancement of computers, though where the ones in the human world grew smaller and smaller, the shinigami liked making them bigger and bigger.

So all of this meant that it wasn't much of a surprise to find a radio in the first division office that spring afternoon, sitting lone on the chest of drawers at the side of the room. It was tuned into every shinigami station they had (which wasn't that many) but the owner of the boxy brown object, and the current Captain-Commander, only really used it to fill his office with random songs from every era you could think of.

Presently it was sprouting a piece of Rock from sometime in the later 2500's, but it was known to play songs from as early as the 1930's from time to time.

"The eleventh division," droned the small man behind the desk, his feet kicked up onto the surface. "Have sent me a financial report asking for, and I quote, 'better fucking dummies cause these ones fall to pieces after one practice session. Maybe you should make them out of actual flesh instead of that pathetic plastic, and they might last a bit bloody longer.'" He waved the offending piece of paper in the air, revealing the scowling face that had been behind it. "Honestly, he's almost as bad asZaraki."

The other man in the room, lounging on one of the apple green sofas and tapping his feet on the floor to the beat of the song blasting around the room, chuckled as if the Captain-Commander complaining wasn't a rare occurrence.

"These are the _new _training dummies you just sent him?"

"Yes!" exclaimed the first, groaning as he slapped the report onto the desk and fetched a biro from his pen-pot. "Maybe if his men didn't try and _massacre_ them, then they're last as long as they're _supposed_ to."

He groaned again and scribbled something onto the report. The taicho on the sofa leaned forward in interest. "I'd just tell him to stick his complaints where the sun don't shine," Ichigo said, gaining a glare from his husband.

"I am the Captain-Commander, I can't tell him to stick stuff up his arse." He looked very tempted to do exactly that though, but his morals must have won because he put the biro down.

"Maybe if you didn't say 'arse'..." Ichigo suggested lightly, grinning like a maniac. Whatever Toshiro was going to say in response was drowned out, however, when the song on the radio changed to something much more familiar.

"Oh my god!" cried Ichigo, jumping to his feet so abruptly that his knees knocked the coffee table by the sofa and almost spilt his drink. His husband stared at him in confusion for a moment, before everything became apparent when the ginger shouted; "This is our song!

The opening of 'Iris' by The Goo Goo Dolls was gradually coming to a close; any second now and the lyrics would join in. Ichigo held out his arms expectantly, already standing in the middle of the office. "Come on, you _have_ to dance with me. We got married to this song!"

But even as he reasoned and pleaded, Toshiro was getting out of his chair and discarding his haori. The white haired male, who was still half a foot shorter than most people, was rewarded with a beaming smile from his lover, and he couldn't help but return it as the melody slowed and the singing began.

Effortlessly, they fell into time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: **A short one.

* * *

**Prompt #011 Darkness**

**With You**

Life goes on forever, if you truly wish it to.

* * *

"Do you think there's anything out there, Toshiro?"

It was a humid summer night, and the two Kurosakis were in their garden. Ichigo was lying with his arms behind his back, his husband's head resting on his chest, and above them the stars peeked out from behind the clouds occasionally, before rolling over and huddling back down to sleep.

"Hmm?" Toshiro replied sleepily, shifting just enough to let the other know he was listening. Ichigo smiled and brought one of his hands around to play with Toshiro's soft, white hair, gazing longingly at him before looking back up at the sky. "Out there," he explained. "Beyond this, beyond everything."

They were old. Soul Society had changed much in their lifetime, and Toshiro held a steady rule over the people. War was a thing of the past, reserved only for nightmares, and souls thrived under the care and the safety that had brought about in the recent years; having a leader who knew the hardships of Rukongai had benefited the people well.

But here, in their private garden, Toshiro didn't have to be a head-strong leader, and Ichigo didn't have to be one of the most powerful taicho that had ever lived. No, here they could be themselves, and everything that made them who they were.

Hardship. Love. Time.

"We're getting old," continued Ichigo, his voice soft and undisturbing of the peace around them. "And I'm getting _tired_."

Humming in agreement, Toshiro closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: **None.

* * *

**Prompt #047 Blue**

**Something Blue**

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something... slowly choked to death...?

* * *

"Matsumoto is determined to find me something _blue_," said Toshiro, sitting on the edge of his and Ichigo's double bed. He was wearing a simple yukata, printed with a soft floral pattern around the end of the sleeves and the collar, and his bare feet didn't quite reach the bedroom floor of their house. Facing towards the door he frowned, and waited for his partner to say something in reply.

Ichigo was currently standing opposite the full-length mirror in the corner, his back to Toshiro and his own frown unnoticed. "Well you've got everything else," he reasoned, giving the kimono in his arms a helpless look.

"I suppose," sighed the other to the wall. "I dread to think what she's going to get me."

There was a rustling from behind him, and then a curse, and this indicated that his fiancé had began to get changed. "Why does she have to get it for you?" Ichigo asked, stepping into the clothing, his frown deepening.

"She doesn't. But if I don't get something before she does, then I'm going to be stuck with whatever she buys. God forbid it could be a pair of tights or something."

"Or a thong."

Toshiro groaned loudly at the image, flopping down onto the bed and covering his face with his arm. Ichigo chuckled as he watched in the mirror, but his amusement only lasted a moment for his dark wedding kimono screamed for attention. He had ordered it a month or so ago and it had only just arrived - understandable, considering what it was, but as he pulled the sash around his waist he grimaced, cursing again.

"At this rate your blue thing'll be me," he joked weakly, vowing to lose some weight before their wedding. "I dunno how I fit into this stupid thing a month ago - surely I haven't put on _that _much weight?"

He pulled the sash shut and tied a hasty knot, squeaking when his breath escaped him.

Toshiro said nothing, not even having to look to know what colour Ichigo's face was turning.

Perhaps he was a bit fatter than he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: **Very happy with this one. (Apologise for the ambiguity)

* * *

**Prompt #023 Trust**

**The Fall**

It had gone wrong in a way that only a Kurosaki could make it go wrong.

* * *

It was, as always, a mission gone terribly, terribly wrong.

They were in the human world, Tokyo to be precise, and while two taicho were not usually sent out together and on such short notice, the situation in the city had deemed it necessary. Souls were disappearing without a trace. Hollows weren't the suspects - they left a dark reiatsu behind so they were easy to trace (and there was the fact that they showed up on radar), and neither were Quincy. That had been a suggestion the taicho were almost one hundred percent certain couldn't be possible, but the two Kurosakis had gone out and disproved it anyway.

After that though, the only things they could be sure about were that 1) all they were pulling up were loose ends, and 2) whatever was hunting the souls was still doing it, and doing it well. The couple hadn't performed a single burial in their time in the country's capital, and considering they had been there for a matter of weeks, that in itself was worrying.

Four days before they were due to report back to Byakuya, with news that was consistently going to be negative, they had made a break-through. And somehow, in a way that only a Kurosaki could pull off, it had led them here, eight hundred and fourteen feet off of the group, standing atop the Midtown Tower in the dead of night.

Ichigo was breathing heavily, his heart pounding against his throbbing chest with every beat, the cold midnight air freezing his throat as he wheezed it in and out. Toshiro was dead-weight in his arms, his bloodied head slumped against his husband's bruised chest, his left arm sprained and his fingers broken from falling down a flight of stairs after being pushed with the shock wave from an explosion. They were both still in gigais, trapped, helpless, and whether or not they had received an answer from the hasty message they had sent Soul Society an hour ago was unknown, Ichigo's communicator back at the hotel, and Toshiro's smashed to pieces.

"You still with me Toshiro?" Ichigo asked, surveying the rooftop to the best of his ability, and not daring to go too close to the edge. His legs felt like they were about to give out underneath him, but he be damned that was going to happen while Toshiro was still dazed and very possibly brain-damaged in his arms.

"Muhghgd," came the reply, his husband's best attempt at a clear answer.

"That's good," he said lightly, trying to lift the mood. The whole building shook and shuddered beneath his feet, crying out from the damage their previous fight had inflicted upon it's walls, and the (very close to panicking) fifth division taicho knew it would only be a matter of time before their opponent was upon them again. "Wait here for a sec," he said, gently laying his burden down onto the concrete. He removed his jacket and tucked it around his partner, trying to preserve his body temperature, and then stumbled around to try and find something to help them.

Midtown Tower was one of the tallest buildings in the whole of Tokyo. Standing near the edge and gripping the nearest object to keep himself grounded, Ichigo couldn't help but sympathize with people who were afraid of heights. As he stared at the thousands of lights illuminating the city in a soft glow, he was glad that it was dark, glad that he could hardly make out the ground, because they were an incredible distance from the ground, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stomach it in the daylight.

At that moment there was an almighty crash from somewhere below them, and Ichigo's heart jumped into his mouth as it was followed by another, and then another, gradually increasing in sound. Cursing and wishing for the safety of Zangetsu in his hands, he spun around to return to Toshiro, only to catch a glimpse of something _unusual_ in the night sky as he bolted across the roof.

Scooping Toshiro up and apologizing swiftly as he hissed in pain, Ichigo took a deep breath. "Toshiro, Toshiro," he muttered urgently, steadily making his way back towards the edge. Toshiro made a noise in acknowledgement, but it was quieter than before, weaker. Gripping his husband tight, Ichigo double-checked the area for what he had seen just a second ago, before asking, "Do you trust me?"

One teal eye cracked open with a furious glare, and Toshiro's unbroken hand twisted the other's shirt.

'What sort of stupid question is that?' was unspoken, but Ichigo got the message loud and clear. Nodding, and hoping to anybody that would listen that he wasn't about to do something stupid, he took another deep breath and whispered for a miracle.

Another explosion crashed beneath them, and a then roar, an inhuman and terrible roar echoed around the building.

With that, Ichigo took a step forward and threw them off of the side.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings: **Cross-dressing (sort of)

* * *

**Prompt #021 Princess**

**The Fairytale**

Ichigo tells a story. Or tries too anyway.

* * *

Ichigo had just gotten to the good part of his story when four year old Daisuke opened his mouth to interrupt. Surprisingly the child had remained quiet up until that point, and the fifth division taicho decided he must be _that good _of a story-teller to keep the son of an Abarai silent.

"Hey, Uncle Ichigo..."

Expecting this to be a bit of a long talk, Ichigo put down the book in his hands and smiled at the raven haired child sitting opposite him, swinging his legs on the end of the bed. It was Daisuke's bedtime (or, it had been before Ichigo had started to read) but the child had asked for a story. Toshiro had volunteered his husband without missing a beat. Ichigo would have sworn and said something teasing in reply if their audience hadn't been a kid, and Daisuke's innocent lavender eyes had been begging him so he had pretty much gone down without a fight.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, watching as Daisuke's small features twisted in confusion.

He was reading an old classic of dungeons, dragons, and knights, but was putting a spin on things but changing the characters around slightly. Not enough to change the story of course, for then Daisuke's childish mind wouldn't be able to handle it, but he had given the characters more... familiar names and personalities.

'To allow Daisuke to relate to the story better' was the reason he repeated to himself. But really, he was just having a little bit of fun.

The knight was, inevitably, the mighty Ichigo Kurosaki, and the evil dragon in this story was called Zen. (He didn't want Daisuke going home and telling his parents about the 'fearsome Sosuke Aizen that his Uncle Ichigo had told him all about' - Rukia would murder him). The damsel in distress had a pretty face, was pretty useless, and pretty much the man downstairs washing the dishes, but Toshiro didn't need to know that.

To be fair, Toshiro made a rather good princess. So he wasn't _actually_ useless, but his charms made Ichigo swoon, and his appearance attracted a lot of attention - perfect for a damsel, no? He had been clever and changed his name just enough so that Daisuke wouldn't recognize it (at least, he hoped, 'Toshira' was a very last minute thing) and Ichigo had just started grinning to himself about his _genius_, when everything fell to pieces.

"Why's Uncle Toshiro in a dress?"

Ah. Okay.

"Um..."

Toshiro would usually be called to answer difficult questions, but considering the topic of this one, Ichigo wasn't so sure that diverting it to his husband would be a good idea. Daisuke sat opposite him looking totally innocent (and curious, dammit, why did he have to get his brains from his mother?) and the taicho sighed, inwardly crying because he thought this would never happen.

"Okay Daisuke." He took a deep breath. "I'm probably not the person who should be telling you this, but..."

(If anything, the child looked even more interested at those words)

"...There's this thing in the world that... that some people _like_, okay? And I'm not saying your Uncle Toshiro is one of these people, but you may grow up and see a very nice looking lady one day, only to find that she's not being completely honest - no wait, that came out wrong..."

(God he hoped this conversation never left the room).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes: **(It's hands only CPR just in case you were wondering).

* * *

**Prompt #045 Heart**

**Beat**

He will never ever forget the lyrics to that song.

* * *

Panic like he had never know before set in when he watched his husband go done and remain there, his majestic wings clipped and crumbling around him. A colossal getsuga tensho ripped from his zanpakuto, screaming with anger, fear, and _power_, and Ichigo didn't bother checking the status of his opponent before he shunpoed down into the streets below, desperate to get to Toshiro's side.

They both knew that the little tenth division taicho was terrible at taking hard hits, but he should have been able to dodge - he was in the _sky - **he** **should have been able to** - _

Hyorinmaru lay shattered on the concrete, his throne of ice rapidly melting into a pool around Toshiro's still form. Ichigo dropped to his knees beside his husband, heart in his throat, and reached out with a shaking hand to check for a pulse. Blood was gushing out of so many different parts of Toshiro's body that he knew, before he had even placed an ear against the other's chest, that there would be no breath.

He was right.

Later, he wouldn't be able to explain the chilling calm that had overcome him. He would put it down to being a doctor in his human life, due to the lack of a better excuse, for he couldn't deny that, as he linked his fingers together over Toshiro's breastbone and placed his hands firmly on his broken body, he had never been so _thankful _for knowing first aid.

He didn't know how many compressions he had to do, but he knew the song that had been drilled into his head to time himself during CPR.

_Nellie the elephant packed her trunk - _

Two fingers tilted Toshiro's head back gently, as if he could still feel the pain.

_And said goodbye to the circus - _

Two breaths. Check for the rise of the chest.

_Off she went with a trumpety-trump - _

And repeat.

_Trump, trump trump -_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes: **None.

* * *

**Prompt #001 Magic**

**Healing Words**

Toshiro's cool, mellow voice lifted the opening sentence from the book and made the words dance with the magic inscribed within them.

* * *

When he was sick as a young child, Masaki used to read his stories to coax him to sleep. At the age he was now he barely remembered what it was like, to lie feverish and be comforted by the sound of his mother's soft voice, reciting passages after passages of adventure and impossible creatures that only a child could believe. That time had long passed, but her smile remained deep in Ichigo memories, and her touch, as she stroked his hair down onto his sweaty forehead, was something he always treasured.

He didn't get sick in Soul Society that often - nobody did (other than Ukitake-taicho of course) so it had taken him a handful of rounds of the flu and many hundreds of years because he felt brave enough to reach over to his husband and ask -

"Can you do something for me?"

(Even if it came out spluttered with a cough and rather slurred)

He was rewarded with a smile for his efforts though, and the hand that had entwined itself in his own gripped tighter in question.

"What do you need?" Toshiro asked, in a voice that revealed his inability to deny his lover's frail request.

Ichigo smiled, wishing that his body didn't groan at him for doing something as minuscule as that. "Read to me?"

There was a large bookcase in their room, the books mainly Toshiro's, but the one that was brought back to the bed was that of Ichigo's - 'Harry Potter', the same one his mother used to read from. Toshiro flipped it open to the first page and then held it in one hand, the other returning to it's place joined with Ichigo's. He'd have to use it to turn the pages every now and then, but Ichigo was pretty sure he would be asleep before that happened too many times.

A moment of quiet filled the small space between them, filled only with Ichigo's harsh breaths, before Toshiro's cool, mellow voice lifted the opening sentence from the book and made the words dance with the magic inscribed within them:

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much..."

* * *

**End Notes**: Last line is directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes: **I feel you Ichigo, I feel you.

* * *

**Prompt #020 Hero**

**Spider**

Hollows and battles and strange butterfly-shinigami mutants he could handle. Spiders he could not.

* * *

Ichigo hadn't even known you could get spiders in Soul Society until he had walked past one and it had pounced on him.

Well, okay, it hadn't _attacked_ him, but he had still leapt back in fright and hurried into Toshiro's office without a second thought. There, he launched himself onto the sofa and lifted up his knees, tucking his feet close so that the eight-legged creature out in the hallway didn't get any ideas.

Cursing, because he had a sick spider-sense that seemed to alert him to their presence, the cowering shinigami hero peered through the door that he had forgotten to close in his haste to check the location of the spider. Ignorance was a bliss, but now that he knew he wasn't alone, he wasn't letting the spider out of his sights for too long. That way, if it hunted him down, he could run away in terror before it got too near.

Relaxing very slightly, because it was still sitting where he had left it, Ichigo turned his attention to the room he was in - both boyfriend and paperwork-less. Toshiro was out with some of the new recruits today, and Matsumoto was in charge of the rest, so Ichigo hadn't been planning on entering the empty office during his trek through the tenth division when he had noticed the spider sitting against the corridor wall.

Remembering that he was meant to be keeping watch, the taicho risked a glance out through the doorway and then squealed pathetically when the spider scampered across the floorboards.

Hollows and battles and strange butterfly-shinigami mutants (Aizen) he could handle. Spiders he could not. He had tried to explain his absolute terror of them to Chad once, when he had seen a tarantula picture in a magazine, but for all of the quiet man's understanding, he hadn't been able to comprehend Ichigo's gut-wrenching reaction to gazing at something that even looked _remotely_ spider-shaped. Part of this confusion was Ichigo's fault however, because he hadn't really been able to explain how his stomach twisted and his whole body screamed '_NO_!' every time he saw a spider, and that the noises that came out of his mouth when he saw one crawl across the floor were involuntary and _oh-so-totally_ pride-damaging.

When he looked up for a second time, it was gone.

"Noooo," he cried, for knowing that there was a spider around and not being able to see it was so, _so_ much worse.

He didn't get up to look for it though.

Of course, this meant he was still curled up on the sofa half an hour later when Toshiro returned from his day, sighing and not registering the fact that his boyfriend had set up a pillow-fort on one side of the room. It was only when the ginger whined that he noticed, and the little taicho stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, one thin eyebrow rising in surprise.

"Do I dare ask?"

"There's a spider in the hallway," Ichigo blurted before he could stop himself from sounding like a child. "It's really big, and I don't know where it's gone."

The other white eyebrow slowly joined the first. "A spider," Toshiro repeated, scanning his eyes over to the door. "You're scared of spiders."

"Don't laugh," snapped Ichigo, flushing angrily. "I can't help it."

Toshiro just shook his head in disbelief, though the edges of his mouth had pulled up into a smirk. He slid Hyorinmaru off of his back and then fetched the used coffee mug from the desk, rummaging through the drawers for a piece of scrap paper - he pulled out an envelope and then knocked the drawer shut with his foot.

"This big enough?" he asked, waving the mug in Ichigo's direction and walking out of the office.

Ichigo nodded as he passed by, and then scrambled up off of the sofa after his boyfriend. There was no real need, for Toshiro had made no move to catch the menace - in fact, he just stood in the middle of the corridor looking fairly amused.

"Well, where is it then?"

It wasn't anywhere to be found. His bravery destroyed, Ichigo whimpered and scurried back onto the sofa, hiding himself back under the pillows. Toshiro chuckled and came back into the room after giving the corridor another once-over, setting the spider-catching equipment back onto the desk. He made no comments about his boyfriend's fear, which Ichigo was terribly thankful for, and started to talk about his disastrous day with his new officers to fill up the awkward quiet.

If he noticed how Ichigo glanced over at the doorway every five seconds, he didn't say anything about that either.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes:** None.

* * *

**Prompt #050 Anger**

**Party Glass**

Every single person in the Kuchiki entrance hall stopped talking immediately.

* * *

"Don't touch him!"

A glass shattered. Somebody gasped.

Every single person in the Kuchiki entrance hall stopped talking immediately.

It was Rukia's birthday, and there was a party being held in the Kuchiki Manor. She didn't specifically like those parties - they happened every year - because they were just a reason to spend money, show off, and be crowded by distant members of the family that she hardly ever saw. This year, though, she was also celebrating her fiftieth anniversary with Renji, though the actual date of their anniversary was a few days after Christmas, but they'd rather not have two parties when they might as well combined them into one.

And as per normal, Ichigo and Toshiro Kurosaki had been invited. The Kuchiki family were used to their appearances by now, though some of the elders did greet them every year as if they had never met before, but generally they were accepted as part of the extended family - not blood or marriage related, but Rukia and Byakuya didn't give a damn, so nobody really said anything.

"How dare you!"

A door slammed. Somebody whimpered.

The sound of hurried footsteps across floorboards approached.

Neither of the two Kurosakis were ones for parties, but they made an exception for birthdays and other important events. As they were both taicho they could get out of most things, so the Christmas Dinner in the first division was usually the only evening that they semi-dreaded each year. Now that Byakuya was the captain commander it wasn't too bad - Yamamoto had been old and boring; Byakuya at least knew to supply a small bit of alcohol to keep people entertained.

From his position on the floor, Toshiro could see every little detail of anger in his husband's posture - his gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, his firm stance and the way his free hand clenched at his side. His other hand was holding a middle-aged man (in appearance) up against one of the walls by the scruff of his kimono, twisted in the fabric and all but ready to let go. The man was holding his own hands up in surrender, sheer panic on his face, but Ichigo's gaze held no mercy.

Toshiro sighed through his throbbing mouth, his newly-loosened tooth wiggling dangerously as he pulled himself to his feet and dusted himself down. The mark on the side of his face was going to cause a horrid bruise in the morning, but his thoughts were only on preventing his husband was killing the offender in the most terrible way possible.

"Let him go, Ichigo," Byakuya called from across the room, sweeping into the hall in a way only he could do.

"No," snarled the fifth division taicho, not even glancing in the man's direction. "He doesn't deserve to be let down."

Byakuya took one look at Toshiro's disheveled form and then sighed, reaching forward to place a hand on Ichigo's shoulder.

"Let him go, Ichigo," he repeated. "And tell me what happened."

The man against the wall made a strangled noise at this. _Guilty as charged_, Toshiro thought, having no sympathy. Ichigo let go of the man and backed off, stepping over to Toshiro in a heartbeat. He ignored Byakuya's request and instead brushed his fingers up against his lover's cheek, frowning at the hiss he got in reply.

"Please don't tell me you've lost a tooth."

"No," Toshiro reassured, trying to calm the situation. "Almost. Unohana can fix it."

"She better," the ginger ground out, his fury returning to him in waves. He turned to glare at the two Kuchikis, wrapping an arm around Toshiro's waist. His husband rolled his eyes at this but didn't shuffle away, and Ichigo rubbed his side in thanks. "We're going." He nodded to Byakuya. "You've got a room full of witnesses here - get information out of them. I'm taking Toshiro to the Fourth."

Seeming to understand, the captain commander nodded back. "Keep me informed."

Ichigo snorted softly and shunpoed them away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings**: Non-graphic violence. Implied torture.

**Notes**: (26th July 13) TSOF chapter two is coming together - I'm still hoping to have it up by the end of the month.

* * *

**Prompt #042 Lost**

**As It Should Be**

They were back. They were fine.

* * *

The news that the three captured officers had been returned to Soul Society and were currently resting in the Fourth Division sent a sigh of relief through every member of the Gotei Thirteen. The prospect of losing two taicho and a fukutaicho to the enemy had rocked the army greatly, but nothing had affected the people more than the idea that they might never see three of their friends again. This is why the announcement that Ichigo and Toshiro Kurosaki, the taicho of the Fifth and Tenth Divisions respectively, and Nanao Ise, the Eighth Division fukutaicho, were back home and very likely to make full recoveries, brought such a cheer to the land of the dead.

They still had a tough journey ahead of them due to the injuries they had gained, but the three shinigami could safely say that they were glad to be back, alive and, mostly, in one piece.

"I see Unohana-taicho has released you," said Nanao with a smile, watching as the Fifth Division taicho finished folding away his hospital gown, now dressed in his usual black and white uniform. She had been hurt the least of the three shinigami, and so had left the Fourth's care some time before. Kyoraku hadn't let her return to her duties however (which took a lot of effort, especially from a man as lazy as him) so she was free to do as she liked; including checking in on her two ex-cell mates.

"Yeah," Ichigo said lightly. "_Finally_." He slung Zangetsu onto his back, relaxing at the familiar, protective weight, and then turned to his husband, moving sluggishly at the other end of the room. It was hard to say which of them had come out of their imprisonment worse off, for the torture used on them had varied depending on their enemy's desires, but along with the expected cuts, slashes, bruises, bumps, and broken bones, Ichigo had sustained a rather brutal head injury that would have surely killed him if he hadn't been a Kurosaki, and Toshiro had been forced a little too close to fire for either of their liking.

Ichigo ground his teeth as he spied the top of the bandages wrapped around his lover, unhidden by his hair or haori. They coiled from his neck down to the bottom of his ribcage, and even with them protecting what was left of Toshiro's scarred back, Ichigo could still trace every inch of the dark, ugly burn that had eaten away the taicho's pale skin.

It made him remember how _afraid_ Toshiro had been.

How much he had _screamed_.

(He wasn't sorry for hacking the **_bastard_ **that thought it would be _funny_ to set Toshiro's _hair alight_ to pieces)

(Nobody had lived long enough to make him apologise anyway)

"Rangiku's been doing her paperwork," Nanao continued, pushing her glasses up her face, the bruise that had almost knocked two of her teeth out having not yet faded completely. "I told her that you're not returning to the office for a while."

She glared expectantly at Toshiro at these words, knowing that he'd otherwise be back behind his desk within minutes of leaving Unohana's care. Ichigo barked a laugh from beside her and added, "Nanao's right - we're going home Toshiro. I'm not letting you go back to work for _at least_ a week."

Toshiro sighed, rolling his eyes. Hyorinmaru was gripped tightly in his right hand, his left still slightly sore from having his fingers broken, but the lack of any witting comment in reply told the two other people in the room that, perhaps, more than a week's leave was going to be needed.

* * *

**End Notes**: Here's some detail if you're interested; Toshiro, Ichigo, and Nanao are captured when on a friendly (or what they assumed to be) visit with a Soul Society in another part of the world. (Probably America - sorry America). I haven't thought about the mechanics of why exactly this happens, but it ends up being a huge misunderstanding that almost causes war. Luckily things are cleared up not long after this scene. No amount of apologies can make up for what they did to the three officers though, so relations between the two Societies are strained from then on. Also, Toshiro's hair gets fixed by Yumichika (Ichigo doesn't trust anyone else with his husband's hair), and it ends up short and choppy and Toshiro decides he would quite like it if he wasn't covered in burns. The burns scar permanently.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes**: None.

* * *

**Prompt #030 Selfishness**

**Doctor, Doctor**

Ichigo knew he wouldn't be able to hide it for long.

* * *

"Out with it," Tōshirō prompted, folding his arms over his chest with an unwavering look as Ichigo jolted, turning a bemused expression towards him.

"Out with what?" asked the substitute, puzzlement pinching his eyebrows together. He started to twiddle the pen between his fingers nervously, his boyfriend coming to sit on the sofa opposite him. Whereas he, being a teenager, was half-way in merging with the cushions he was slouching against, his work and stationary thrown out around him, Tōshirō perched himself down delicately, his hard glare never faltering.

"Something's been on your mind," explained the taicho, an impatient edge to his tone. "You've been staring at that page for twenty minutes, and you've only written three paragraphs - I _know_ that's an essay due on Thursday."

"I'm fine," Ichigo argued, an almost automatic response that fell from his lips. One white eyebrow quirked upwards; Tōshirō clearly wasn't buying it.

"If 'fine' is an euphemism for 'troubled, anxious, but not wanting to talk about it', then I'll take your word for it," he said, settling back into the sofa to get himself comfortable. The air between them took a dive for professionalism that Ichigo only expected to find in his school's counselling room, and he sighed, putting down the pen before he did something stupid with it. Tōshirō said nothing, but they both knew he had won.

"It's nothing big," started the teenager, pushing aside some of his work to cross his legs together. "Dad's got himself a girlfriend."

Tōshirō was very still for a moment. Of all the things he could have said, Ichigo knew the taicho hadn't been expecting that one. He could understand - parents falling in love (again) was unimaginable, in a sense, and the whole thing did feel quite surreal to Ichigo. He had always assumed, rather childishly now that he thought about it, that his father would never desire anybody other than his late wife, but he supposed falling in love wasn't exactly something you could control.

"...I fail to see how this is 'nothing big'," the taicho said eventually, shaking his head very slightly.

"Well it's not that important," Ichigo interrupted, and then, catching the glare, corrected himself, "Well, you know. Dad can do what he likes. I just..."

Tōshirō urged him on with an appreciative hum. Ichigo honestly did feel like he was at therapy.

"...I just can help but think about mum..."

"Surely she would be happy that her husband has found somebody else?" Tōshirō queried, imagining from the little that he knew about Masaki Kurosaki that she wouldn't be the type of person to feel jealous or spiteful.

Ichigo readily agreed. "Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, eyes wide with the need to defend his mother. "That's not the problem though - I... I..." he trailed off, sighing and flattening his lips in an attempt to smile. He suddenly seemed so much younger than his seventeen years, body curling in on itself slightly as he grumbled his next words: "I guess I feel like she shouldn't be part of our family. It's selfish of me, I know, but..." He shook his head. "I don't know."

Tōshirō's eyes were soft, like the sea waking after a storm. "Have you spoken to your father about this?"

"God no! I can't tell him! What would he say?"

"Perhaps something along the lines of, 'you're being an idiot son. We're still going to be a happy family.'" Tōshirō replied, his voice deepening in an imitation of the old Kurosaki.

Ichigo felt himself smile. "That was terrible."

"Oh hush," snapped the taicho playfully. "I can't be good at everything - "

" - Soo modest - "

" - Shut up. But really, you should talk to him."

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo muttered, waving his hand dismissively. They were both smiling now, and Tōshirō felt like he'd done a good job at this comforting business. "Alright, maybe later." He knew Tōshirō would make sure he did. "First I need to teach you how to do good _impressions_ of people."

Tōshirō stuck his tongue out.

Ichigo promptly did the same.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes**: Unfortunately, there's no background or plot-detail with this prompt. Annoying, because _I_ want to know where this came from and what it leads to XD

* * *

**Prompt #046 Laughter**

**Dangerous Games**

"It's a _test_! A test to see if we're pure of - !"

* * *

"Don't you _see_?" Ichigo bellowed, lunging out to grab Renji's shoulders. Renji startled, his own hands rising automatically to grip his friend's forearms, a defence and a protection in one sweeping motion, his face grimacing when Ichigo gripped him tight. Nails digging into the red-head's haori, the younger of the duo shook with frantic words, "_It's a test_! A test to see if we're pure of - "

His words broke off with a sharp inhalation at a sickening crunch from behind him, and, feeling nauseous, Ichigo spun around as Renji's eyes widened with horror. The crack of bones grinding abnormally was a sound repulsive enough to make any man cringe, and the two unyielding taicho were no exception to this. Apprehensive of what he would see, Ichigo turned to see the white-robed spirit from before holding Tōshirō's pale face between her delicate hands. His disbelieving eyes reflecting Tōshirō's wide ones, Ichigo had just enough time to register the unnatural angle at which his husband's neck was twisted, before the spirit sighed almost dreamily, and let him go.

Tōshirō _crumpled_ to the ground.

The spirit laughed gleefully, clapping her murderous hands together as her eyes dazed with mirth at the two taicho's mirrored expressions of terror. "He's dead, he's dead!" she chimed, dancing in the air above Tōshirō's immobile form like a ballerina, her silver crown almost slipping from atop her golden locks. "You warriors are so stupid! Why worry about swords and battles and honour when you can just break someone's neck?"

Her laugh rose up in pitch to manic; her smile widening to reveal a perfect set of shining teeth.

"Necks are so easy to break! _So easy_!"

She sighed again, happily, with delight, and in a blink of an eye she appeared before Ichigo, floating over his shoulder. Renji tried to grab her but she just giggled and back-flipped in the air, hovering lazily and staring at Ichigo's broken expression like a child absorbed in their favourite bed-time story. "Oh Ichigo, Ichigo, Ichigo," she hummed, running her fingers up the side of his neck. However, only Renji had narrowed eyes for her - Ichigo's were fixed on the crippled heap of his husband, lying just a few metres away. She didn't really seem to mind though, smiling sweetly at the sixth division taicho before gently patting Ichigo's chin closed.

"**This is your second test, Ichigo Kurosaki.**"

Only then did he glance at her, his fearful expression hardening into a fierce and undeniable _hatred_. She laughed at this, blew the two men a kiss, and then disappeared completely, her enchanted giggle echoing behind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes**: Ooh I like this one. Again, excuse any spelling mistakes. There's bound to be a few stupid ones.

* * *

**Prompt #041 Home**

**Deduction**

It didn't take him long to realise someone had broken into their house.

* * *

Their front door was unlocked when he arrived home, not an unusual sight in itself, but as Ichigo ran his fingers up the edge of the door, tracing the deep scratch marks and the holes where the dark paint had been chipped away, careful not to catch his skin on the splinted wood and the remains of the lock in the frame, he knew that this time was anything but customary. He reigned his spiritual energy in, coiling it away into his inmost being so tightly that it was a rope ready to snap at the smallest flicker of a flame, and gently pushed the defeated door to allow just enough room for him to slip inside.

He didn't bother closing it - that would only bring the potential of giving himself away to whoever was inside - and glided down the hallway, his senses high on alert and his hand tucked up by his ear, fingers flexing for the hilt of his zanpakuto. The house was still, as it normally was when Toshiro arrived home first, because he was not a man of noisy actions, or unnecessary words, but this only encouraged the fifth division taicho to tread cautiously towards the calamity waiting for him. The living room and kitchen were empty when he passed - the former untouched and the latter with an empty tea cup as the only sign of life - and as Ichigo turned to the 'L' shaped hallway that situated the two guest bedrooms, both bathrooms, and the master bedroom at the back of the house, he heard the low hum of their walk-in-shower from the closest doorway. An irrational thought sparked in his brain (was Toshiro still in the shower, despite the break in?) but when he edged his way into the larger, family bathroom, it was clear that he was grasping at the wrong straws.

The shower was running, but the bathroom was completely empty of people, save himself. He frowned, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees on the spot to scan the room for any clues. The neatly folded piles of clothes in the corner told Ichigo that his husband had been in the shower, but the missing towel from the radiator and the wet footprints on the floor both suggested that Toshiro had finished with his shower - and left. Confused, because the shower was still running, Ichigo reminded himself that there must be more to the mystery than what he was seeing, and took a deep breath.

He was no Sherlock Holmes, but his observation skills would have to do. Firstly, though, he stepped closer the shower and reached inside to turn it off, soaking his arm in the process but not really caring. He had just brushed his fingers against the metal before realizing he was making a mistake - he retracted his arm as if the water was burning him, mentally cursing himself for almost doing something so stupid.

If he could hear the shower running, then he was pretty sure whoever was in the house could too. Turning it off would be just as effective as screaming 'I'm in here!' at the top of his lungs, and revealing his presence was not something he wanted to do. He sighed heavily and wrung out his sleeve, the warm droplets of water dripping from his fingertips and swirling a pale red down the drain -

Red?

He lifted his hand up, numbly rubbing his bloody fingers together. It wasn't his own - he wasn't hurt - which meant it had to be Toshiro's, and that meant that his husband had been in the shower, because there was blood on the hot water knob and he had just touched it -

Dammit to Hell, Ichigo thought that explained why the bathroom door was open when he had walked in!

If Toshiro had been in the shower then the door would have been closed, but he never locked it so it could be opened from the outside!

Hurrying out of the bathroom, Ichigo took a left and followed the trail of wet footprints along the wooden floorboards and up to the master bedroom, his heart pounding and his spiritual energy fraying at the edges, desperate for release. He spied the open door and straightened his back accordingly, sucking in a breath through his nose as he stepped forward with a long stride, the eyes of the three strangers in the room glowing with a predator's gleam at his arrival. There were two lurking in the side of his vision - one by each wall - and the third was standing by the end of the double bed, a short blade twirling between his fingers. He was standing side-on to Ichigo, though this didn't undermine the slight curl of his lips when he noticed the orange-haired taicho, and while his left hand played with the weapon, his right ghosted above Toshiro's shoulder, keeping him perched on the end of the bed without having to exert any force.

Ichigo's eyes immediately sought out those of his husband, and Toshiro's teal ones shone like a storm, anger dwelling beneath them. Ichigo took this as a good sign - if Toshiro was mad enough to have the 'when I get out of this I'm going to punch somebody' look on his face, then it was likely that he wasn't seriously injured, and this allowed Ichigo to focus on the situation without losing himself in concern for his other half.

Of course, he was still concerned. Not only was Toshiro in close proximity of a weapon, he was also only clothed in the towel missing from the bathroom. Luckily it was quite a large towel, even for one of Ichigo's proportions (which Toshiro was certainly not), but it didn't chance the fact that beneath the soft material his husband was wearing nothing, and that thought angered him more than anything. It wasn't that Toshiro was incapable of defending himself, or that somehow having no clothes meant he couldn't put up as much fight as normal, but how vulnerable being so bare made people feel. Ichigo would much rather go to battle with his uniform on than without it, just because having those layers over his skin gave him, not only some protection, but a sense of security. His fighting skills would be the same either way, but clothed he wouldn't feel weak, small, or humiliated.

That was how Toshiro was feeling at that moment - embarrassed beyond belief. His toes were curled into the carpet, and the hand that wasn't keeping the towel closed around his shoulders was clenched in his lap, his skin flushed and sweaty. It wasn't just a battle instinct keeping his back straight and muscles tense, but a deep desire to not let his enemy see him so exposed and fragile.

"Where is it?" asked the middle man, throwing up the blade one more time before swinging it between his index finger and thumb.

Ichigo raised his chin defiantly, catching Toshiro's approving smirk as he did. "You'll have to send your goons looking for it," he challenged. "Isn't that what you broke in for?"

One of the men in the corner of his vision jolted at that, feet jerking in a half-movement that suggested he had orders to stay put.

Self-indulgent and easily angered, Ichigo thought. I can go with that.

"I'm not stupid enough to think you've left it unprotected in your house," continued the one with the blade. "But yourhusband - " He spat the word. " - seems to think that's exactly what you've done."

"Huh," Ichigo said lightly, frowning in disbelief. "Maybe you should listen to him - he's cleverer than me." The three man all let out various noises of frustration that made Ichigo wonder exactly how unhelpful Toshiro had been to them. Seeing the look on the other taicho's face answered that question for him though, and his mouth expanded into a grin. "Come on then," he went on, throwing his arms wide. "Search me then, see if I care."

The twitchy man went to take a step forward, but the other revealed that he, at least, had a bit more sense than his companion by interrupting with a shocked, "He's still got his zanpakuto on his back you idiot!"

Ichigo promptly removed Zangetsu in response, holding it out in one hand. The two subordinates had stiffened into defensive poses at the move, and the leader had grabbed Toshiro's towel and twisted it around his knuckle. Ichigo wasn't concerned - if they honestly thought he would be able to swing such a large zanpakuto around in his house, then they were obviously more stupid than he had previously thought. Sighing, because nobody was approaching to take his weapon away, he took matters into his own hands and threw it over to the more sensible one of the duo. With a startled cry the man clumsily caught it, dropping to the floor under the sheer weight of it with a strangled groan. The guy to Ichigo's right dashed over to help him, and as they both tried to heave Zangetsu into a more manageable position, Ichigo channeled a burst of spiritual energy into his zanpakuto.

The men were flung across the room in a flicker of black fire that licked its deadly tongue in the air between them, tasting for enemy presence. The third man brought up his arms to try and defend himself against the attack, but Ichigo just wrenched them away and punched him solid in the jaw. There was a resounding crack, and then the only people left conscious in the room were the pair of unimpressed Kurosakis, eyeing each other with something that may have been a fond approval.

"I suppose we best call Soifon in on this," Toshiro sighed, the hot tension slipping away to pale his features once again. Ichigo rubbed the back of his knuckles and turned to him, finally feeling comfortable with fully running a medical gaze over his partner. Toshiro was still clutching the towel around himself, and now Ichigo could see that he was shivering, the icy water drooping his hair trickling down his pulsing neck. He carefully traced one of the fresh, purple marks with his fingertips, tutting as the extent of Toshiro's scratched and bruised skin came to light.

If they weren't already out cold, Ichigo would gladly knock the trespassers out again.

"Having a nice shower, were you?" he asked, trying to lift the mood, and remembering that the water was still running down the hall.

Toshiro hummed in agreement. "It didn't last very long though."

Ichigo smiled and pulled his husband up onto his feet. "Have a bath now then, we can call Soifon later." He glanced down at the heap at his feet, nudging it with his shoe. "Eh - best bind them with a kido. Do you think Soifon'll ask many questions if I stick them to the ceiling?"

He received the look for that. Chuckling, Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck, and decided to leave his revenge for when Toshiro wasn't in the room.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes**: Very short.

* * *

**Prompt #044 Mischief**

**The Unexpected Visit**

"I hope the King won't mind."

* * *

"Why are we in the Soul King's palace?" Toshiro asked, taking the time to observe his surroundings for any clues. The whole building was tightly traditional, from the blooming wildlife and the serene lake hiding the King's home from civilisation, to the tiled wooden flooring, the beige carpets, and the low oaken table where a pristine set of tea pots were currently steaming. The pillow Toshiro had been lead to was plush and a deep scarlet, reminding him of battle and wars instead of jewels and royalty - as he supposed it was probably meant to represent, but it was exceedingly comfy so he shouldn't complain. The room was empty of people bar him and his partner; Ichigo shrugged from his seat next to him, the baby blue towel slipping down one shoulder.

"I've got no idea," he replied, shooting Toshiro an expression clearly highlighted what they were both feeling. He was tense but he wasn't fidgeting, so Toshiro concluded that he hadn't been sitting on his own for a great deal of time, otherwise he would have been tapping his fingers nervously or the like, as Toshiro knew he did when uneasy. "Do you think anyone else is coming?"

"I don't know," mumbled the tenth division taicho, disliking how they were in the dark with the situation. He sighed, pressing his lips together, and shifted into a comfier position, taking note of how Ichigo was watching him from behind his damp orange locks - "Are you - are you wearing anything underneath that?" he asked, running his eyes up and down the towel Ichigo was wrapped in.

"No. I hope the King won't mind."

"Oh god," breathed Toshiro, and they both started to giggle at the utter absurdity of the whole thing.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes**: Human!AU

* * *

**Prompt #037 Shy**

**Enclosed**

They're flatmates. It's inconvenient.

* * *

Ichigo wasn't entirely sure what possessed him to listen to his friends, for one moment he was in the pub with a pint of beer forcing out all his inhibitions, and the next he was standing in an unfamiliar hallway of an apartment on the other side of Karakura, a flimsy, dead-weight cardboard box containing all of his possessions in his arms. The tight-lip, pale faced, and unimpressed guy curled into the armchair tucked away in the furthest corner of the front room, the cushions a horrid shade of green that reminded Ichigo of his grandmother and clearly covered with some cheap felt for the effect of comfort, only glanced his way for a second over the top of George Orwell's '1984'. Smiling nervously and wishing he could rub the back of his neck, Ichigo tried his best to come across as small and insignificant - it must have worked to some degree, for the stranger returned to his book, flicking lazily through the next page.

"First door on your left," the white haired hardback said, voice as monotone as it's cover. No other directions were given, but Ichigo decided that was okay and fled the room, knowing already that he could navigate around the two bedroom apartment simply by standing in one spot and spinning three-sixty degrees.

"I'm Ichigo Kurosaki," he said when he returned, dancing awkwardly in the doorway as he contemplated either getting a cup of tea or putting his shoes back on and high-tailing it out of there. "I, er, I hope I'm not intruding."

'1984' said nothing, remaining perfectly still in the grasp of the tiny fingers. A pair of dainty feet were lifted from the floor and tucked up onto the chair, however, creating a barrier of bony knees between the two occupants of the room. Ichigo wondered if he should perhaps take offence at such an implication of mistrust, but then again the majority of his friends were social butterflies and so he'd never really encountered someone on the opposite end of the spectrum. Dragons were vastly different to butterflies, he thought briefly, but he wasn't sure that dragons were the type of creatures to make dens in places lacking so much artistic sense.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya," came the voice eventually, quiet and reserved behind the pages. "And no, you're not intruding."

...He'd go with a socially inept butterfly for now.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes**: Not the best thing I've ever written.

* * *

**Prompt #025 Happiness**

**Silence**

Ichigo, for the life of him, hadn't known what to do

* * *

Ichigo supposed he fell in love the first time he heard Toshiro laugh.

They'd been in the tenth division office, Ichigo slouched on the sofa with his body angled towards the desk, one worn waraji trailed onto the floor and his other leg bent up to provide himself some stability as he nursed a cup of tea in his hands. Toshiro, per normal, had been behind his desk, his own cup of tea steaming beside his whittling pile of paperwork. Their conversation hadn't been anything special - Ichigo didn't remember what they'd been talking about, now - but the tone had been tired, the atmosphere heavy on their shoulders with the lateness of the hour. They would be parting for the night soon, Ichigo returning to the fifth division and Toshiro slipping away to his quarters, the dust gathered there from many sleepless nights a thing of the past. The last cup of tea had been the only thing anchoring their bodies together, and Ichigo had believed that making conversation at that point would have been pointless. The shuffling of papers was the only voice, wordless and yet saying so much, but he'd added a comment anyway, the wistful sentence clinging onto the conversation that had ended ten minutes before.

"I wonder where Rangiku-san is."

Toshiro had muttered something in reply, shaking his head as he reached for his tea, but then he'd stopped, creased his brow in surprise, and started to chuckle. Startled, Ichigo had peered over at him with an expression of bewilderment, a question on his tongue. The taicho had taken one quick look at him and then curled over himself, hurriedly smacking the cup back onto the desk as he started to laugh uncontrollably.

Ichigo, for the life of him, hadn't known what to do. He'd just sat there, mouth agape, and watched as the withdrawn, collected taicho clutched at his stomach and mouthed incoherent nonsense to himself; words that only fueled his amusement into side-splitting laughter. By the time Ichigo had decided that there was nothing to worry about, Toshiro's face was glowing red and he was gasping for breathe, his rich, deep laughter having knocked more than just his reservations out of the window.

"Hey," he said slowly, half way between grinning and gaping. "You okay?"

"Yes, yes," Toshiro replied, waving a hand as if it would help. He sat back in his chair, still holding his stomach, and positioned himself back into the demeanour that Ichigo had come to know. "I'm fine, excuse me - "

Another glance at Ichigo set him off again. Having no idea at what he'd done to cause such a reaction, the ginger just relaxed back into the sofa and hid a smile behind his cup. He was glad that Toshiro was comfortable enough with him to let himself go in such a way. Glad that Toshiro_ was_ laughing, because it was lovely - _he _was lovely - and Ichigo was...

In...love.

In love with a man a step away from rolling about on the floor for a reason not shared; unexplainable; and worth every single second.

And...he was okay with that.


End file.
